


we'll go slow and high-tempo

by rire



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Keith (Voltron), Praise Kink, Riding, sort of, sprinkled with a bit of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rire/pseuds/rire
Summary: The minute Lance walks in through the door, the sight that greets him makes his dick jump in his pants.Because Keith is sitting on the bed, wearing Lance’s shirt and nothing but Lance’s shirt, just long enough to cover his crotch, his pale thighs tucked casually under him. He looks impossibly inviting, like something right out of Lance’s wet dream.“Hey,” Keith says. “Welcome back.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> i swore that i'd branch out and write things that aren't pwp but old habits die hard so here i am. this is really just self-indulgent porn with a lil bit of sappiness bc i can't help it
> 
> enjoy!

They haven’t been apart for this long in ages. That’s just the kind of predicament that comes with being roommates who are also sort of, well, _together_ — for better or for worse, Keith is always around to point out his mistakes, to laugh at him, to laugh _with_ him, to watch Netflix with when they’re bored out of their minds or to have sex on every single piece of furniture.

The week he went to visit home was awesome, in all aspects. Getting to see his family again, catching up on what he’d missed, learning not to take them for granted. But he also missed Keith. Kind of pathetic, when he thought about it, but since they’d started doing whatever it was they were doing they hadn’t gone more than two days without having sex. He spent a hell of a lot more time back home thinking about Keith than he’d ever admit and lamenting his own lack of courage to ask Keith to come home with him.

Now that he’s back, though, he doesn’t know what he expects. He knows what he hopes for— a prolonged makeout session, maybe. But what happens is that the minute Lance walks in through the door, the sight that greets him makes his dick jump in his pants.

Because Keith is sitting on the bed, one hand behind his back, wearing Lance’s shirt _and nothing but Lance’s shirt_ , just long enough to cover his crotch, his pale thighs tucked casually under him. He looks like impossibly inviting, like something right out of Lance’s wet dream.

“Hey,” Keith says. “Welcome back.”

Lance replies with a strangled noise in his throat. He doesn’t get the chance to form any sort of coherent thought, because Keith hops up off the bed, fists a hand in his collar, and tugs him in to press their lips together.

Lance curls a hand in Keith’s hair and tries to deepen the kiss, only to be pushed back rather forcefully and stumble, his butt landing in the wooden chair near the desk. "Whoa," Lance says, and Keith answers by pressing their lips together again, hard. He kisses hungrily, merciless in the way his teeth graze Lance's bottom lip, and Lance mentally prepares himself for a night of getting fucked hard. But just as he's about to accept that fact, Keith pulls away.

He's about to ask what's up, but when he looks up the fire in Keith’s eyes catches him off guard, renders him momentarily breathless, and Keith takes advantage of that moment to grab hold of both of Lance’s wrists in a firm grip.

Lance blinks, trying to make sense of the situation. He’d kind of _really_ wanted to touch Keith. But then Keith brings Lance’s hands around, behind his back, opens the palm he's kept concealed all this time— a tie— and binds Lance’s wrists to the chair.

_Oh._

Not what he’d expected, but Lance can roll with this. He can _totally_ roll with this.

As if reading his thoughts, Keith’s mouth curls up into a smug grin, and his eyes flare up in that way that makes Lance’s dick twitch in his pants and his mind race to try to figure out just what Keith has got up his sleeve.

He doesn’t need to guess much longer, because Keith drops right to his knees with no preamble. Straightforward, no-nonsense, just like everything else about him. He trails his hands up along Lance’s thighs, pushing with a little force to spread them apart. The trail of skin tingles in the wake of his touch, sends shivers of anticipation up Lance’s spine. With deft fingers, he pops the button of Lance’s jeans and unzips it, pulling down his pants along with his boxers just enough for his half-hard cock to bob free of its fabric restraints. Lance lifts his hips and Keith pulls his pants down the rest of the way, tugging them off and tossing them aside.

“You’re already hard,” Keith remarks, bemused, “just from kissing.”

“Shut up,” Lance bites back, with a slight blush. “I was looking forward to seeing you all week.”

“Yeah? So was I.” Keith gets in close, so that Lance can feel his breath on his cock, making him squirm. “Was thinking about touching you.” He wraps a gloved hand around Lance’s cock, dragging up— the burn feels so _good_ that Lance’s hips arch right into Keith’s grip. “Was thinking about how good your cock would taste.”

And Lance _whines,_ because it’s not fucking fair that someone so pretty to have such a filthy mouth. It’s like Keith is some sort of secret weapon designed specifically to bring about Lance’s downfall. Then his thoughts cut off abruptly as Keith opens his mouth and takes Lance in all at once.

Lance’s head jerks back as a groan is ripped from his throat. Good _God_. The hot, wet slide into Keith’s mouth nearly makes him see white. Keith hums triumphantly around him, and the vibration has him biting his lip, barely forcing back another groan, because dammit, Keith knows what he’s doing to him and he doesn’t have the right to look so _smug_ with his mouth wrapped around Lance’s cock. Keith presses his tongue flat against the side of Lance’s cock and licks, and as soon as Lance’s hips start to buck forward Keith pulls off and rolls his tongue lazily around the head, making Lance keen. He continues on like that, a back-and-forth pace that’s just past teasing and just shy of what Lance actually needs, and Lance loses himself in the burning in the pit of his stomach and the conflicting impulse to punch Keith in the face but also grab on to that mullet for dear life and fuck his pretty mouth. And that’s the whole problem, he thinks as his wrists tug against his restraints. Lance can do neither of those things, because Lance can’t even _touch_ Keith right now.

Even so, he’s already close. His chest is heaving with his breath, toes curling, and just when he thinks he’s about to lose control Keith pulls right off with an obscene _pop_. His lips are pink and wet with spit and precome, and he wipes off the stray strand of saliva from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

Lance tries very hard to say something snappy, but it comes out as “Urrrrghhhh.” Which makes Keith chuckle lowly, and makes Lance even more pissed off and turned on.

“I’m not done with you quite yet,” Keith says, that raspy tone of voice making Lance whimper. He gets up, dusts himself off nonchalantly like he hadn’t just been sucking dick like a champ and heads over to the bedside drawer, taking out the lube. What’s left of Lance’s brain tries to make sense of the situation. He knows the way they usually do it, but there’s no way Keith can fuck Lance while he’s tied to this chair, his ass pressed to the seat. They’d have to take it to the bed, and he’d have to untie Lance. Lance’s eyes light up a little hopefully as Keith returns, but Keith doesn’t bother loosening the restraints, just climbs on top of Lance, straddling him. He tilts Lance’s chin up with a gloved hand and kisses him much too fast, with a quick swipe of the tongue against Lance’s bottom lip, the kind of kiss that only hints at what’s to come.

Which is hopefully Lance, soon, because fuck, he needs it.

Lance wants to grab onto him, kiss him, grind their cocks together— anything but wait. But then Keith uncaps the lube, spreads it over his fingers, and slowly, without breaking eye contact, brings his hand down to his ass and dips a finger in.

“Holy shit,” Lance wheezes. He’s fantasized about this before, with his hand wrapped around his dick, but this blows everything out of the water. He watches, captivated, as Keith bites his lip and thrusts his finger in deeper till it’s knuckle-deep. He’s still got his gloves on, and damn, Lance won’t ever be able to think about anything else when he sees Keith wearing them. The smirk resurfaces on Keith’s face, his eyes glinting. 

“Hm.” He moves his finger around a bit. “Mine don’t reach as far as yours,” he says, matter-of-factly but not without that teasing undercurrent. He adds another, slower, with a shaky exhale of breath as he squirms a little to accommodate the feeling. “I did this to myself all the time, while you were gone,” he continues. “It always feels so good, imagining you, stretching me open.” His voice drops to a downright lethal tone. “Imagining your cock filling me up.”

Lance whimpers, hit with the realization that he could come just from hearing Keith talk dirty to him, coupled with the sight in front of him— Keith’s mouth half-parted, the breathy little noises drawn out of him increasing in intensity as he fucks himself on his fingers. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen and he wouldn’t be able to look away if the world around him was ending. He can’t take this much longer.

“Keith,” he moans, desperate. “Oh my God, _Keith._ ”

“Hm?” Keith replies noncommittally, fingers still roaming around in his ass, the lube making a squelching sound. “What’s up?”

“Keith, I want to fuck you right now.”

That earns a bit of a response, if only in the form of a slight blush and soft, bitten-off noise. Lance almost expects a _yes,_ but instead, Keith tilts his head and answers, “Hmm, I dunno. I think I could come like this, just from my fingers, while you watch.”

Lance groans loudly, his irritation poorly masking his desire. Keith _wouldn’t_ — would he? “Keith,” he tries again, his breathing growing frantic, “come on, _fuck, I need you—”_

Keith lowers himself down and Lance feels his cock brush against Keith’s entrance, but then Keith shifts his hips and Lance’s cock slides past, into the cleft of his ass. Keith tugs at Lance’s earlobe with his teeth, and says, “You’re gonna have to be a little more _polite_ than that.”

“Keith,” Lance gasps, hips jerking involuntarily— he’s just about at the end of his wits here. “Keith, _please_ , let me fuck you—”

That was, surprisingly, all Keith needed. He positions himself on Lance’s cock and slides down smoothly, mouth falling open with a half-groan. The tight heat is too good, too much all at once— Lance throws his head back with a cry, and nearly sees stars.

Keith braces his hands on Lance’s shoulders and works himself up and down, too slow— with every calculatedly careless roll of his hips Lance fights back the urge to cry out, to beg for more. Keith sinks down fully, taking Lance in and grinding his hips at just the right angle, and every single shred of coherent thought Lance had held on to is thrown out the window as he digs his nails hard into his palms and babbles a string of words— _Keith, please, fuck, more._

His vision focuses again on Keith, and he finds a smidgen of satisfaction in the fact that he’s not nearly as composed as he was before, his hair messy and sticking to his forehead with sweat, pupils wide and cheeks flushed, legs just barely straining with the exertion of holding himself back. Lance’s body thrums with fierce desire. Up until now, Keith has been setting the pace, but just as Keith sinks down again Lance’s hips buck of their own accord and Keith _moans,_ a completely uninhibited sound as his body shudders around Lance, fingers momentarily losing their grip before digging again, hard, into Lance’s shoulder blades.

He takes advantage of the moment where Keith’s control falters to press his mouth to Keith’s neck in messy, open-mouthed kisses, and feels Keith’s pulse jump, feels his skin burn. It feels good, to finally have an observable effect on him, to know that for all his teasing, Keith wants this just as much as he does. That thought makes him thrust up again, deeper this time. Keith’s body gives a violent jolt, making a sound somewhere between a groan and a cry, a telltale sign that Lance has found his prostate.

It’d be easier if he could brace his grip on Keith’s hips, but he does what he can— which at this point of his dwindling sanity is namely just thrusting wildly, getting as much friction as he can— but it works, because goddammit, the noises Keith is making are the filthiest, hottest things he’s heard in his life.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “God, Keith, you feel so good.” The words just tumble out, because his brain-to-mouth filter is _gone,_ was gone the moment Keith decided to tie him to this chair and ride him within an inch of his life. “You’re so good, fuck, you sound so _gorgeous_ —”

He doesn’t know what he expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. Keith actually _whimpers_ , and the sound shoots straight to Lance’s crotch and he decides that this is the only thing he wants to hear for the rest of his life. And then Keith plants a shaky hand at the nape of his neck and kisses him, _really_ kisses him with reckless abandon and Lance just snaps, right then and there, unable to think or do anything but keep babbling on, words of praise he's not even sure make sense, making Keith shudder and squirm— driving his hips up relentlessly, wanting— needing— more, _more_. Keith meets him halfway— his rhythm grows erratic, his composure slipping between his fingers, both of them panting and gasping for air with their lips still locked together.

“Lance,” Keith pleads against his lips, and Lance never wants to hear anyone else say his name, he could die like this. “Lance, fuck—”

He feels himself getting close, and Keith must, too, because he pulls himself up and then _slams_ himself down, hard, the sweet burn knocking the breath from Lance’s throat as he comes apart with a ragged cry, Keith’s name falling from his lips over and over again.

Keith doesn’t stop, just keeps going as if Lance hadn’t come already. Lance tries to catch his breath and finds it punched from his lungs again as Keith grinds down on his cock, angling himself so that it hits the spot and throwing his head back and groaning. He squeezes tight around Lance, his face an erotic tableau of pleasure as he falls over the edge, hot come spurting onto Lance’s chest, and Lance goes dizzy all over again. 

His heart pounds in his chest as he watches Keith come down from his high, bangs sticky with sweat, chest heaving with shuddering breaths that slowly wind down to normal.

“Holy shit,” Lance whispers, something in his voice akin to awe. “That was amazing.”

In response, Keith gives a shaky chuckle. “Yeah.” His voice sounds absolutely fucked-out and incredible. Lance could probably get hard again, just hearing him talk like this.

Keith lifts himself up on shaky legs, easing himself off of Lance’s cock, and Lance’s eyes shamelessly follow the trail of come that dribbles down his thighs. The low, whining noise in his throat betrays his thoughts, and Keith laughs again, raspy.

"So, you like being tied up, huh." Keith's mouth quirks up. "Who knew."

 _"You_ knew, you piece of shit," Lance grumbles, with no actual malice in his voice. "You know how fucking unfair of you it was to keep me waiting for _so long_ and then teasing me like that? I thought I was going to die of blue balls!"

Keith laughs— Lance will never get tired of hearing it— and presses a kiss to the corner of Lance's mouth.

"You liked it, though?"

The upward tilt at the end of his words reforms the statement into a question. Lance looks at Keith's eyes, earnest and questioning, and grins. “About as much as you liked being praised,” he says, voice airy.

Keith’s face turns a satisfying shade of red. “I did not.”

"Whatever you say,” Lance answers, unable to keep his smile from seeping into his words. He tries to reach out to ruffle Keith’s hair, but realizes his wrists are still trapped. His arms are a little sore, in that pleasant way that arms sometimes are when your sort-of-boyfriend ties you to a chair and rides the living daylights out of you. “Can you untie me now?”

"Yeah," Keith says. He gets off the chair and unties Lance's wrists, and studies them. “You okay?” he asks, but Lance is already preoccupied with tackling Keith down onto the bed, all the breath leaving him in a rush. He can't make up his mind where to touch first. He buries his hands in Keith's hair, kisses him deep, feeling a rush of affection flood through him when Keith goes pliant, tilting his head back and melting into the kiss. He trails his hands down Keith's jaw, his neck, tracing the dip of his collarbones, the defined muscles of his chest, and still he can't get enough of him. "Yeah,” he answers, about a minute too late. “Yeah, I’m okay. God, it feels so good to finally get my hands on you," he says. And then, softer, “I missed you.”

Keith flushes, suddenly averting his gaze, because even though he has no problem running his mouth about how much he wants Lance’s cock inside of him, a simple, honest confession is too much. Crosses the line. He finds this more amusing than he should, and feels sort of lucky, for all the sides of Keith he’s gotten to see today.

“I, uh, missed you too,” Keith says, and it’s a little awkward, like he’s not used to admitting that he has feelings, and that tugs at Lance's chest. So Lance leans down and closes the distance between their lips, and this time Keith reaches up and curls a hand in Lance's hair, eager, returning the kiss with passion.

When they both pull away moments later, it's to breathe, and to press their foreheads together and revel in the moment, and in each other. Something shifts in the atmosphere, in the way that Keith looks at him. Lance can hear his heart beating in his ears.

“Had a good trip?” Keith asks. His voice sounds like it’s been stripped of a couple layers, almost… wistful. 

“I did,” Lance says. "It would've been better with you there." Something rises and pulls at his chest, and the words push themselves out before he can think better of it. “You should come with me next time.”

Keith’s eyes go wide. He looks positively taken aback. Lance chews on his bottom lip, and waits, muscles tense with the feeling of not knowing what he’s waiting for. And then Keith’s eyes go soft, and he smiles— really smiles— the kind of smile that Lance could get drunk on.

“Yeah,” he says, after a moment, and his words sound like so much more. “I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come talk to me on twitter [@redbeantofu](http://twitter.com/redbeantofu)!
> 
> edit: thank you toast for this [wonderful fanart](http://drawingtoast.tumblr.com/post/151666174026/some-fan-art-of-redbeantofu)! ^q^


End file.
